Unshed Tears
by Gandalf3213
Summary: A month and a half ago, twelve eigth graders were kidnapped out of their school. The team found six of them five boys and one girl. Their story, which spins a tale of abuse and rape, leave the group with more questions then answers.
1. The Beginning

**I don't own CSI, or anything like that. **

The door was kicked down easily, like a piece of weathered tin. SWAT descended the stairs first, then the CSI's, their guns out. At the bottom of the steep steps was a room that was only lit by a small flickering candle in the corner. Huddled around the candle were the kids the country had been searching for for a month and a half.

Catherine lowered her gun, counting the children quickly. There were six of them, only half of the number kidnapped out of a school in New Jersey. All appeared to be male.

The group were huddled together, clutching at each other, though out of fear or cold Catherine could not tell. The clothes they were wearing were no more then rags, showing a few of the many scars they had accumulated.

Brass stepped forward, his hand out, speaking the same low tone of voice you'd use when helping an injured animal, "Hey guys, you're safe now. We're the police."

The group relaxed slightly, though their eyes still stared distrustfully at the many men that surrounded them.

One of the group stepped forward, although another was trying to hold them back. "C'mon guys, let's get out of here."

Catherine was not the only one startled by the voice. It was undeniably female, although the close-cropped hair and stick-like figure said otherwise. The girl stepped forward, flanked on both sides by the rest of the group, looking very much like body guards. As they passed, Catherine saw every one of them trembling, reminding her that these were just eighth graders.

She looked at Nick and Warrick, both of whom were already pulling out gloves and surveying the room. "Hey guys, I'll be back in a sec." she started up the stairs.

The abandoned lot was filled with the flashing lights of police car and ambulances. She watched as the kids were brought to a paramedic. All of them seemed bewildered by the action, as if they weren't used to seeing so many things at once.

Catherine went over to the ambulance were the girl was putting up a fight. She wouldn't let the male paramedic take off her shirt to tape her bruised ribs.

"Hey honey," Catherine said, kneeling down next to the girl. "I promise that this man won't do anything to hurt you."

The girl relaxed enough to allow the man to do his job, though his eyes never left Catherine's. The woman was struck suddenly by a terrible thought. _She looks almost like Lindsey. _Except for the eyes, which were huge, round, blue-gray orbs, this girl was a replica of her daughter.

Still talking in low tones, Catherine started looking for information. "What's your name, Honey?" she asked gently.

The girl winced a little as the paramedic tightened the tape. "K-Katie," she stuttered, her eyes flicking away from Catherine's.

"Well Katie, do you think you could talk to me later?"

Katie nodded, looking away. Catherine smiled. "Okay."

Catherine was about to start back down the steps when she was intercepted by Brass. "None of those kids will let me within an arms length of them." He complained. "Or any of my men."

Catherine shrugged, "Can you blame them? THey've probably been raped by men looking just like you." she sighed, letting her mind linger for a moment on the unfortunate children who had to grow up so fast before pushing the thought back.

"Well, do you think we should bring them down to the station?" Brass was obviously uncomfortable.

Catherine pushed her hair back. "Do we have a choice? Their families are in New Jersey, Jim. That's not exactly around the corner."

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	2. Stories

**I own it not**

Catherine and Sara looked through the window into the large holding room. All six of the kids were huddled in a small corner, talking to each other in such low voices that the microphones didn't pick them up. "This is what they've been like the entire time?" Sara asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Catherine nodded. "They won't let Nick anywhere near them, and Warrick barely got any info."

Sara laughed harshly, "Well, I can't say I blame them." She sighed, watching the children talk to each other, their expressions so serious, so hurt and untrusting that it broke her heart to see them. "God...just two months ago these guys were laughing, thinking about dates and homework." She looked at Catherine. "What do you think they're thinking about now?"

"That's what we need to find out." Catherine said quietly.

* * *

Warrick sat across from a boy who looked remarkable like him. His long black fingers sat motionless on the table while his piercing green eyes stared directly at Warrick, harboring feelings of distrust, fear, and, buried deeper down, a small glimmer of hope. "What's your name?" Warrick asked, even though he knew it already. 

The boy shifted a little, and Warrick realized that, in a different time, this tall boy must have played basketball, or at least should have. "Avery, sir." he replied quietly, his eyes leaving Warrick's face.

"Can you tell me how this all started, Avery?" Warrick's voice was low, like he was talking to an injured animal. This boy was an injured animal.

Avery's eyes shone with fear. Or was it anger? His voice was low, and he was continuously looking around, as though he was afraid of what he was going to say. "We were in Spanish. It made sense to take our class 'cause we have lunch next and Mrs. Love has a break period."

Avery drew in a shuddering breath before saying, "We had...a sub. Mrs. Love wasn't there. That was odd. And we didn't recognize the sub, that was odd, too."

"Did the sub have a name?" Warrick asked quickly.

Avery nodded. "Yeah. He said to call him...Mr. J? I think that was it." He looked down at his feet, which didn't have shoes, so Warrick could see all the blisters and cuts that covered them.

"We went outside." Tears started to drip from his eyes. "We went to the side of the school where there were no windows. Nobody saw anything." The tears were coming freely now, and once they started flowing, they didn't stop.

* * *

Brass felt oddly uncomfortable sitting across from this boy. Like all the other kids, who had come in, he was dresses in rags that barely covered the bruised and bleeding skin. 

"What's your name?" Brass asked, his quiet voice echoing in the metal cell.

The boy jumped slightly, his hands covering his chest momentarily, his eyes going wide. Every bone in his body was at attention. "Jordan." He said softly, not relaxing.

Brass tried to fit the name with the blue eyes and shaggy brown hair on a body that looked like it could run.

"Why don't you tell me how you got here?" Brass wanted to look away from his eyes. They looked so different from other teenagers he'd seen. Haunted, fear-filled windows.

Jordan dropped his hands to his stomach, hugging his body. "He told us to get in the van. We were in the field in the back of the school, and there was a van parked there." His voice was breaking, and Brass knew he was trying to keep back his fear.

"He had a gun, and was waving it everywhere." He paused for a second. "I'd never seen a gun in somebody's hand before."

"So we all got in the van. We didn't really have a choice. But Jason kicked a taillight out. Saw in on some damn police show. He figured that the police would find us easier. Not that they found us at all."

"That was smart thinking," Brass said, trying to remember how to smile.

Jordan nodded absently, "Once we were all in the back, he slammed the door. It was so dark, and we were so scared. Some people started crying. We were all hoping somebody would stop the van before it could get out of the parking lot."

"A lot of the girls were crying kinda loud, and Cameron calmed him down. I think we all knew, deep down, what was going to happen. We had been driving for about three hours when Bobby came up with the idea to cut the girls hair. We weren't thinking to straight by then."

"Kevin had a pocketknife. He took it out and started cutting off Katie's hair. We look alike, close enough that when in was done, the only difference was her freckles. She looked like a boy, you know. She didn't have very big―" he motioned to his chest.

Jordan suddenly stood up, wincing in pain as one of his cuts re-opened. "God, why didn't someone help us!" he screamed, kicking the chair.

**Reviews are good for the soul**


	3. Bandages

**I don't own it. Just so you know.**

Nick was passing the large room where the kids they had brought in were being held when something caught his eye. Three boys were in the room. He guessed that the other three kids were being questioned. One of the boys was curled up on the hard chair, asleep. The other two were trying to patch up the others multiple scratches that the paramedics hadn't taken care of.

Taking a quick detour, Nick went to the common room where, stowed under the sink, was a first aid kit. "I can't believe someone else didn't think of this." Nick muttered, wanting to kick himself.

As soon as he stepped into the room, the two boys who were standing immediately straightened up, moving so that the third boy was blocked from view. It happened quickly, like they had been doing it for so long that it had become habit. After seeing who it was, the tall, black boy asked quietly, "Sorry, sir. Is there something else you needed to ask us?" his voice wobbled in the middle, making a thought cross Nick's mind _he's afraid of me!_

"No," Nick held up the first aid kit, trying to smile. "I thought you'd need help."

The black boy smiled back. A forced, small smile. He motioned for the other boy to get the first aid kit that Nick was holding out. "Thank you. The cuts are a nuisance, and we were just trying to wash them."

Nick knelt next to the boy who had taken the first aid kit from him, "Excuse me...?"

"Jason." The boy said, looking at him for a brief instant before turning away, shaking. Nick understood. He felt a connection with these kids. He had always been over-sensitive when it came to child abuse, especially sexual abuse.

"Jason." Nick repeated. "Do you want me to do it?"

Jason looked up at the other boy, searching for an answer. He shrugged. Jason nodded ― just a small up-down motion before sitting down and lifting up his shirt, pointing to a long, shallow cut on the middle of his back.

Nick squatted behind him, taking out a long band-aid from the kit. He glanced at the boy, who was still sleeping. "Who's he?" Nick asked, trying to make conversation.

The black boy glanced at the sleeping one, before answering. "Jordan. He's had a rough time." He saw the look on Nick's face and laughed for a second. It was a pretty, tinkling laugh. "I guess that's a stupid thing to say in this situation." A pause. "I'm Avery."

Nick laid another band-aid on Jason's back before straightening up. "You guys try to patch each other up." He said, looking between the three boys, taking in their ragged appearance and drawn faces. "I'll see if I can get you a couple shirts or something and here―" he put his fingers into his back pocket, remembering an item he had put there. "Have this." He handed the boys a chocolate bar that had been sitting in his pocket. From the looks on their faces, you would have thought he'd given them gold. How long had it been since these boys had had a chocolate bar?

_Too long_, Nick decided as he closed the door.

* * *

"The van stopped about four hours from where we'd started." Jason's voice was calm and even, though his eyes kept flicking throughout the room as he tried to look for an escape. "Just a pit stop, you know?" He wished his voice didn't crack so much. "We did that about...six times? Maybe seven. Just being in the back of the van for hours at a time and getting out for a ten minute break. It must have taken a couple days. The sun rose twice." He couldn't believe he could remember this much.

"After all that was over, we were brought to the lace where you'd found us. That little shack thing." Jason's voice was rising higher. He didn't notice. "There were five men who stood there, separating the girls from the guys."

"But Katie stayed with you." Sara said, looking at the boy. Except for a black eye, his complexion was dark like wood with unruly curly black hair.

Jason nodded. "Yeah. Have you seen her and Jordan together?" Sara shook her head no. "They look exactly alike, except that Katie's hair was blonder before. Now they're pretty hard to tell apart, especially if you're all drunk like―" He was so not going to cry. He had promised himself that.

Sara asked quickly, "Do you remember the girls' names?"

For the first time, Jason's eyes stared right at her. They were totally black, like two little spots of ink. "Of course I remember." His voice was low and harsh. "You know that every night we hoped that they'd come into that horrible room, just so that we could see them?"

Sara's eyes widened slightly. "Do you remember their names?" Of course, she already knew their names. They'd been all over the nation's newspaper.

Jason's eyes became unfocused. "Jesse, Hannah, Marina, Caryn, Sam, and Amanda." He looked at a spot just over Sara's left shoulder. "We never saw them again."

**That was for everyone who wanted Nick. Anyway, review please.**


	4. Words

**I don't own CSI. Just this story.**

Catherine looked up from the paper to the boy in front of her. "Robert?"

The boy made a small sound. His chin was touching his chest and his big pointed ears poked through the thatch of unruly blond hair. "What was that?" Catherine asked.

He looked up then, blushing automatically, lighting his hollow cheeks on fire. "Bobby. No one calls me Robert."

Catherine tried to smile, but to her it felt more like a grimace. "Okay then, Bobby. Can you tell me what happened next? After you were separated from the girls?"

Bobby's blue eyes looked directly at Catherine, yet they seemed to be looking at something past her. Something only he could see. "We were brought – kind of thrown down into that little dungeon thing. It became our home. Our 'haven'. Stupid, right? Anyway, we couldn't believe that we still had Katie, and we wanted to keep it that way. Katie was smart; she had been in fights before. We were just farm kids."

He took a deep breath and looked at Catherine apologetically. "You've probably heard this lot, but man, Katie and Jordan look alike. So Jordan just kind of did all of Katie's jobs."

"What kind of jobs?" Catherine saw immediately that this was the wrong question. The boy, who had been relatively calm before, now looked frightened and (was she misinterpreting this?) a little embarrassed.

"There were men always coming to the main place – the little shed thing on the property. Every night – or at least we thought it was every night – we'd go there and there'd be men and they'd pick us." Tears were coming to his eyes now, trailing through the dirt that was left on his face. "Katie and Jordan stood next to each other, and Jordan would take all Katie's 'jobs'."

A small sob escaped his lips, and his hand went immediately up to his mouth as he cringed. His eyes met Catherine's startled one and he tried to relax. "Poor Jordan." He finally managed to gasp. "Poor guy. He's good-looking too, so he went a lot anyway, and then taking all Katie's...well, he was out almost every night."

Finally, Catherine asked the question that had been bothering her for a long time. "Why'd you do it?" _Stupid question_, she chastised herself immediately,_ they're much to young to be taking on full-grown men_.

But Bobby answered anyway, his eyes looking directly at Catherine's with a painful intensity. "That's how we got food. We did a job, we ate for the night."

* * *

Grissom had been warned not to interview anyone - that they were frightened of men. They had told him even more times that he should not go near the girl. So of course, he interviewed the girl.

He sat down across from her, studying her before he said anything. She was small, her body straight and narrow like a boy's. He could see how she could have been mistaken for one. Taken Catherine's advice, he had looked at her doppelgänger beforehand. They did look remarkably alike.

"Katie?" Grissom tried to keep his voice soft and even. The girl strated slightly before looking at him and smiling. She was very pretty, though half-healed buises obscured part of her face. "Can you tell me what you did during the day?"

The girl relaxed, glad the question was simple. "We slept a lot. We kind of piled on top of each other to keep warm, but we managed not to freeze to death. It's much warmer here then in New Jersey." Her voice was light, with a slight affliction to it, making in cound musical.

"After we slept, we'd talk about...well, just about anything un-important. We'd all known each other for a while, so it wasn't like we were strangers. We alked about school, sports, stuff like that. Families was a pretty common subject. What they were doing and our memories of them." She smiled again, her eyes flicking towards the door.

"We also sang. Quietly, very quietly. We didn't want them to hear us, or else we'd be in Trouble. Bible songs, and church music. Songs we all knew. I guess we all hoped God would help us out."

Grissom thought of something, going with it even though it was completely off-subject. "Honey ―" she cringed at the word. "Katie, can you tell me how you go those bruises?"

Katie's hand went up to her face subconsciously. She let it fall back into her lap. "At night, whenever we weren't pick to go, we'd do tests. Just a lot of ways to make us more...what that word? Compliant? We couldn't fight back ― first because we were too scared and later because we were too tired." she looked towards the door. "I'm really tired."

Katie looked back at Grissom. "Sir, when are we going home?"

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	5. Actions

**I don't own CSI you know**

The parents started arriving soon enough. Grissom watched as his team told bits and pieces of stories to different people, all ending with "We'll release all the kids at once in about an hour."

Catherine checked off the names of people who had parents, paring everyone off but the girl, Katie. She walked over to a short black woman who seemed to be the most "together" at the moment.

"Excuse me." She said, sticking out her hand. "Catherine Willows, I am one of the people working on your son's case."

"Of course." The woman shook her hand gratefully. "I cannot ―" she broke up, her voice cracking. "I cannot thank you enough for finding my boy. For finding all our boys."

"You're aware there was a girl in the group?" Catherine asked, guessing that she didn't. She was right.

"Who was it? Little Jesse? Probably that one Kate. She's tougher then the rest. Used to live in a city you know." The woman seemed pleased that there was at least one girl found. She figured it would lead to the others.

"Yes, Kate." Catherine paused before asking. "Do you know where her parents are?"

The woman laughed. "Hard to keep up with _that_ bunch. Six kids, you know, including the girl. Youngest has cancer. I don't think they've even heard the news yet. I'll call them if you think it'd help."

Catherine smiled, "Thank you, that makes this job that much easier."

The woman laughed without mirth. "I hear you, sister. I hear you."

Ten minutes later the woman hurried up to Catherine. "The family is cooped up in a hospital for the night. Poor woman started crying when I told her the news, but her son's getting surgery. Anyway, a family friend will be out here, but not until tomorrow."

Catherine found Grissom after that. "We've run into a snag." He raised one eyebrow, telling her to get on with it. "The girl's parents can't get out here." Grissom's eyebrows went up further but he asked no questions.

"We can't put her in a home for the night, she'd die with all the people touching her." Grissom was talking more to himself then to Catherine. "And if this things ever going to courts we can't risk a CSI taking her for the night. I hate to just leave her here but..."

They were walking past the holding room now. Catherine looked up and was surprised to find all the children at awake and all looking at something. She looked in the direction they were and found Greg, still in his coat from the lab, talking to the kids. From the faces he was making she figured he was telling a story. She motioned to him to come out.

Catherine sensed Grissom looking at her. "What? He fulfills all the requirements. And the girl seems to like him more then anyone else."

Greg came out, smiling and the two of them while rolling back on his heals. "What's up? Nice kids, huh? A little two quiet, but there you are."

"They're witnesses in a multiple rape case, Greg." Grissom said sternly, causing the younger man to lose the smile and stop moving.

"You mean...them? They're the kids everyone's talking about?" He seemed surprised and a little worried.

"Listen, Greg." Catherine said, trying to cut to the chase. "That girl's parents aren't coming 'til tomorrow, and we need someone to give her a roof."

Greg looked at her as if she'd grown two heads. "Listen, they're nice and all, but tonight I wasn't really planning to play baby-sitter. What if I had a date?"

"Do you?" Grissom asked. If it had been anyone else, Catherine would have thought they were kidding around.

"No, but that doesn't mean I want to play house with some ten-year-old!" Greg

said loudly.

Catherine sighed. "I'm pretty sure _she'd_ rather be with her family too, Greg, seeing as she hasn't seen them in a month and a half."

That put Greg in his place. He became uncomfortable, then exploded. "Fine, I'll bring her home." He went back in the room, crossing over to the girl, who was sitting next to her twin, talking in low voices. "Hey kiddo, you're going to come with me tonight, alright?"

The boy snaked an arm around the small waist, hugging the girl to him. Now that Greg knew what these kids had been through, their actions, bruises, and slow, polite manner made sense.

"Where's my mum and dad?" The girl asked, looking confused.

"They got caught up. You're with me." The uncertain look on Kate's face told Greg that he was probably in for a long night.

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	6. Listening

**Don't worry, I don't own it**

Greg opened the door to his apartment and walked in, hearing the girl walk in after him. She had been quiet the whole ride there, responding in shrugs to Greg's fumbled attempts at conversations until they finally lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

Now he watched as she looked around his apartment the small quarters. Katie looked up at him. She seemed to be looking for a way to say something she didn't want to say. "Mr. Greg? Sir? Ummm… I was wondering if maybe I could take a shower? It's just that I haven't had one in, like forever so…" her voice trailed off as she looked at him hopefully, her body tense and waiting.

Greg felt a surge of pity go through his body as he looked at the slim dirty girl. Of course she wanted a shower. "Of course. It's right through that door." He pointed to a plain white door at the end of a short hallway.

The girl smiled timidly at Greg, who was surprised to see that this expression lit up her small features, making her look more feminine than she had before. "Thank you."

Greg watched her go, a little disconcerted by the impact this girl had on him. He knew that she'd been through Hell and back and she was still almost normal. Except for the bruises and cuts, the too thin waist and the sad, sad eyes.

He walked into the kitchen, thinking that the next thing he would want after that ordeal would be food. Usually he went out or ordered in, but he made it a point to keep the basics; eggs, bread, and milk. With these he threw together what his Grandma Olaf would've described as breakfast for dinner.

The door to the bathroom opened just as Greg was wrestling a little-used frying pan out of the cupboard. Katie emerged wearing an old striped T-shirt of Greg's and a pair of too-big sweatpants tied in the back and rolled up at the bottom. Now that the dirt and grime was washed away it was even more apparent just how many bruises there were on the girl. Her short hair, which Greg had thought was light brown was actually strawberry yellow, cut in jagged waves framing her face.

"What are you making?" Katie asked quietly, sitting gingerly on a high stool next to the counter.

Greg tried to smile. "I was thinking French toast. You like that?" He thought he saw a ghost of a smile flit across her face. "French toast is perfect."

Greg absentmindedly cracked the eggs as the ancient pan warmed up on the stove. He asked the girl questions about her school and family, what she liked to do. He was amazed to find her somewhat talkative.

"I think my parents aren't here because of my brother." Katie mused quietly, watching as the butter sizzled in the pan. "He has bone cancer and had just relapsed when we got…you know." She looked away.

"How old is he?" Greg had to admit that he was fascinated. This girl was so…interesting. Mature, brave, and even, from what brief glimpses he'd had at her, funny.

"Almost six, his name is James. I have three other brothers. The twins Mike and Kevin are younger. Jeremy is the oldest, then my sister Audrey then me and down to my other brothers." She seemed content to talk about her family, she even started to smile again.

"You miss them don't you?" Greg asked quietly, flipping the last toast onto a plate and brining it over to the table. Katie slid off the chair and winced, her hand going to her side.

"I miss them, I miss my friends, my books, my music. I miss basketball and TV and playing the piano." She looked out the small window and sighed. "I miss seeing the stars at night and going to school. I miss getting good grades on tests, going to the beach, eating ice cream." She hiccupped. "I miss a lot of stuff."

Greg found that the smile didn't come as easily now. As he watched the girl break down in front of him, he found himself wishing that somebody — anybody — else had taken her in. He hated himself for it.

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	7. Dreams

**I don't own it. **

Katie had eaten six slices of French toast before she was full. Greg had tried to stop her ― the food was too rich after the little she had eaten for the past month. His attempts weren't great, however, so she had finished it off, getting sick at the end and running to the bathroom.

She came out, smiling apologetically, bringing her plate to the sink and washing it automatically. She looked out the window at the stars. "This is all so fast. Yesterday I was still...there. And now I'm here, and my parents are coming, and everyone's going home." She paused. "How weird is that?"

Greg nodded, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He sat on the couch and picked up the remote absentmindedly, turning the TV on. Katie sat on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and staring with wide eyes at the screen. Greg flipped through channels, finally settling on a _Friends_ re-run.

He was surprised to hear Katie laugh. A small giggle as Joey said a particularly funny line. Then she broke into huge, chest-racking sobs.

Greg watched, helpless, as the young girl's body shook from the pain of letting out all the anger, frustration, fear ― the feelings she'd had for the past months. He didn't touch her. He couldn't. It'd just make it worse.

He slid off the couch and came nearer to Katie, trying to decide whether to wrap his arms around her or let her finish it out herself. He decided on the first one.

The sobs stopped momentarily as Katie drew back, her eyes still closed. Then she leaned forward into the embrace cautiously, not letting herself put her whole weight on Greg. Still afraid.

Eventually, the sobs subsided and Katie wiped her red face, smearing the moisture into her already damp hair. "Sorry." She muttered, not looking at Greg. The television emitted a boxed laugh. They both ignored it.

"Don't worry about it." Greg found that he too was shaking. Shaking with anger at the men who had put a thirteen-year-old girl through this.

Katie started yawning about an hour later. "Here." Greg said, moving off the couch. He got a spare blanket and through it over the cushions. "You can sleep here, or find another place."

Katie looked at the couch. "Thanks." She said, smiling timidly at Greg. She climbed onto the couch and laid down, bringing the blanket up to her chin. Her eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. "Goodnight Mr. Greg." She murmured.

Greg swallowed hard. God, this was harder then he'd thought. _You're getting in too deep._ He told himself. _Don't get too attached, she's leaving tomorrow._

Greg hadn't even realized how tired he was until his head touched the pillow. Then he was out like a light.

It was two in the morning when the scream came.

Greg bolted out of bed, still half asleep. He knew where that scream had come from. "Katie!" he said, reaching her. "Shhh….it's okay. It's okay."

The girl looked up at him, horror in her eyes. "They — they were all dead."

"Who were dead, honey?" Greg tried to keep his voice even, though inside he was screaming.

"The boys. All of them were just lying there, with they're eyes open, looking at me. Like they were accusing me of something." She drew in a great, shuddering breath. "I guess you must thing I'm pretty stupid, being scared over a dream."

It took another fifteen minutes to get the girl calm enough to go back to sleep. Once she had, Greg sat down on the edge of his bed. He found himself thinking that it wasn't stupid to be scared over a dream. Not stupid at all.

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